


Secrets We Didn't Need To Keep

by Ablissa



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5747662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ablissa/pseuds/Ablissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell. Twenty-four. In love with his best friend and flatmate, Phil Lester, for the past five years.</p><p>Dan usually gets by, he does. He won't tell Phil, obviously not. But he can't even picture seeing the man with somebody else, and it seems like this time around, there <i>is</i> a somebody else.</p><p>In the middle of the night, we are all suspended in a strange void. In this suspension, secrets become hard to keep.</p><p>And that's not always a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets We Didn't Need To Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is just a Phan one-shot I wrote a while back and never posted. There is some angst, but honestly, this is a fluff fest just waiting to happen. Let me know if you enjoyed it! :)

The whole world is chilly when Dan steps outside at 3:41 AM.

Street lamps illuminate his way as he walks through the foggy streets at a faster pace than he normally would, each distressed step bringing him closer to his chosen destination.

He’d ring up a cab, usually, but he’s not exactly in his right mind at the present time. He absently thinks that the cold air might do him a world of good; might help him clear his mind, but honestly, all it's doing is making him shiver underneath his coat, all too light for both this type of weather and this time of the night.

Besides, London after dark is not exactly the friendliest of places, Dan realizes, passing by a group of overly loud and overly hammered people. Back in his more scene kid days, when his hair was longer and his jeans were even tighter, this was the type of thing that he’d learned to avoid; running into strangers in the middle of the night. He’d been bullied and made fun of too often to not recognize a dangerous situation where there was probability for one, and recognizing it was tied with avoiding it, as far as Dan was concerned.

Dan thought himself good at confrontation when it came to using words for weapons. If you’d anger him enough, he’d know what to say to win an argument. But even though he towered over a whole lot of people, he’s never been up for fighting off hordes of loud, cocky drunkards.

Luckily for him, these days, aside from the dark shades of his wardrobe, he didn’t stand out all that much. They’d have no reason to look at him twice, not really.

He sneaks past them and walks on, breathing out a sigh of relief when nobody follows him.

 

The streets, scarcely lit and cold, are a bit of a maze, but Dan and his friend Phil moved to London soon three years ago. Dan finds his way around the place fairly well, even without public transport and cabs. It’s Phil that’d get lost two blocks down from their apartment, not him. Tonight, Dan knows where he’s going. It’s nowhere near their place, though. Dan wonders if he’ll arrive at his destination even remotely resembling a human being. Perhaps he’ll look more like a block of ice.

He kind of already feels like one, anyway. The ice block that is. He’s got a tiny one bubbling up where his heart used to be, after all.

 

**:~:**

 

When he reaches the end of his journey, the streets are already shifting from shady and dangerous to busy and impatient. It’s light outside – as light as it ever gets in England during the fall, anyway – and Dan pulls out his phone to check the time.

It’s just after six AM. Some of the less fortunate people, those that need to be at work before seven, are already crowding the pavement and looking at him with unmasked irritation when he unknowingly blocks their way.

It’s too early. He walked too fast, despite his perpetual lack of exercise.

He’ll have to wait some more, won’t he?

He will.

The shivers grow more violent as he sits down on the third step, wrapping his arms around himself and just barely holding back the urge to rock back and forth, like an abandoned child, lost in a strange and lonely place.

 

:~:

 

Dan stares at the clock in his phone, counting down the seconds until 7:59 changes to 8:00.

It’s eight in the morning. Surely it’ll be appropriate to knock by now. He’s pretty sure he’s lost use of the majority of his limbs. He’s so cold that he doesn’t even realize it anymore. His black coat helps fight off some of the wind, but Dan’s underestimated how much harm five hours out in the cold can do to a person who spends the majority of their time inside.

He climbs up the remaining steps and knocks on the door. Softly at first, but then more with increasing insistency. Knock knock. Knock knock. KNOCK KNOCK.

Three minutes pass and the door opens, revealing the sleepy face of his friend, Louise. She’s not wearing any makeup and Dan realizes that he’s seeing her like this for the first time, despite their long history of friendship. She’s wearing a bathrobe and her hair is pulled up in… Curlers? At least Dan thinks that’s the word for it. It’s the exact opposite of what _he’d_ use on his own hair, but Lou always looks nothing short of lovely, so it obviously works.

“Dan! Oh, my God, you look so pale! You must be freezing! Get in here this instant!”

Dan responds with a soft “Hi Louise,” that is nearly drawn out by the sound of her fussing around him, immediately alert. He feels warmth spread throughout his body, because hey, Louise’s got a fireplace and her personality is at least ten times as warm as one. He’s no longer alone.

He’s led through the pastels and flowery patterns of her hallway, Louise’s hand never once leaving his until they’re both sat down on the sofa. Somewhere along the way, Lou’s got him wrapped up in a blanket, and by some other act of kindness, his frozen hands are now clutching a cup of warm tea.

His little block of ice begins to thaw a tiny bit.

 

He leans back in the sofa, reminded of his very own favorite crease at home, and looks around. Louise’s lounge is very cozy, just like the rest of her place; hell, like Lou herself really. Everything is soft and aesthetically pleasing. There’s all sorts of pretty patterns and it’s all white and light pink and there are toys scattered all over the place, but they fit as if they’re meant to be there for decoration. Perhaps Louise’s daughter had inherited after her mother a taste for fine home furnishing.

Darcy’s the reason that Dan stayed outside in the cold for two whole hours. Not even he is inconsiderate enough to wake up a three year old girl, not even on his worst days. Apparently, Darcy slept through the whole ordeal anyway, because they are alone.

Dan’s sort of out of it really – he’s not slept a wink the whole night, and while he hears Louise’s questions, he doesn’t really register them until she forcefully pries away his tea, grabs both his hands in hers – they don’t fit, not at all, Dan’s got big hands – and insists that he looks at her.

His eyes slowly drift away from the beige armchair he’s been looking at previously and finally meet his friend’s. The look of utter alarm written all over her face shakes him back to reality just enough for her to feel prompted into asking further questions.

“Dan, darling, are you okay? Are you ill?”

“Yeah. No. Kind of.”

“Is something the matter? Is Phil alright?”

He doesn’t answer. The ball in his throat seems to grow until no sound can escape.

“Dan?”

Two deep breaths later, he’s fit enough to mutter, “Oh, Phil’s _fine_.”

Lou knits her brows at the resentment Dan’s been unable to hide, but she composes herself and tells him to have some more tea. Dan does. He’s warmer now, but then again, he’s still cold.

She asks him a couple more questions: what he’s doing out in this part of London so early in the morning, if everyone is truly okay, if he’d like something to eat. He nods his way through them and doesn’t give a proper response to a single one.

“Did you and Phil have a fight?”

Putting _Phil_ and _fight_ in the same sentence is peculiar at best, but Louise was probably running short on guesses by now. Then again, he and Phil do fight occasionally, although it’s always more of Dan ranting angrily and Phil remaining quiet, composed, trying to settle things. But they didn’t even do that, not last night.

No matter the fact that there was no fight to speak of, a sudden sob escapes Dan’s mouth, startling the both of them in equal measures. The worst part is, that when the dam breaks, there’s no way back for Dan. He’s always been like this. Bottle it all up until it blows up in his fucking face.

The first tear trailing down his cheek is followed by the first meaningful answer of the morning.

“I can’t do this anymore, Lou.” The words come out broken. Warm, caring arms squeeze him; Louise simply looks at him, knowing better than to ask what he’s referring to.

There have been too many conversations on this topic for Louise to not know Dan’s meaning.

“He’s – I just – I can’t.”

Dan is grateful for the silence. Years of friendship, his friend just knows when to remain silent.

“We were sitting on the sofa last night,” Dan says, words falling out of his lips as if he’d held them back for too long. Perhaps that is true. “I was pretending to be scrolling through tumblr, but I was really just looking at Phil. He’s been quiet all night. And he’s been texting someone.”

“Well, surely that is alright, isn’t it? Texting doesn’t have to mean anything,” Louise comments hurriedly, rubbing comforting circles across his back. Dan hears a note of distress in her voice, but he disregards it and shakes his head.

“He’s free to text all fucking day if he wants to,” he blurts out, “But he’s smiling at the phone, Lou. You know Phil’s smile? How he lights up like a bloody Christmas tree?” Louise nods, although somewhat unwillingly. “That’s what he’s been doing. And it was meant to be movie night. I downloaded this new horror movie and I made popcorn and I’m not even sure if he’s spent three consecutive seconds looking at the fucking TV.”

Louise stares at him in increasing concern, but he’s back to looking at the beige armchair. He doesn’t even bother to wipe away the tears when they begin to flow more freely and choke him as he keeps on talking.

“And I’m sitting there, right, like a frickin’ moron. And I’m all like ‘hey Phil that was scary right’ or ‘d’you reckon we should make a video of us reacting to horror movies or summat’ and he just nods away and keeps on staring at his phone.”

More silence leaves him room to finish the story. “And it’s like, I just want to touch him. I just love when he’s doing all this casual touching thing, you know? More than in the videos but not a lot or anything. And the last few days he’s not done any of it.”

His friend does not manage to ask for a conclusion before he offers one. “I’m thinking he might’ve met someone, Lou.”

Louise finally cuts in, pulling him in and holding him close for a moment. When Dan moves away, she shoots him a caring look and speaks up. “Dan, sweetie, I think you might be overreacting just a tiny bitsy bit,” she utters kindly, fingers running through Dan’s hair. “So Phil’s been texting someone. So what? You two live together, you’re bound to do things without the other one’s attention. Think of all the hours you spend on tumblr or playing that weird game of yours.”

Dan grunts in frustration. His face is all red, eyes are growing puffy, and he feels horridly unattractive. Deep down, he knows that Louise will never hold this against him, so he doesn’t mind.

“Yeah, I _know_ ,” scoffs Dan, “But I don’t grin at my phone like it’s made out of Maltesers.”

“Perhaps he’s read something funny,” Louise quietly suggests.

“Perhaps he’s got a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Whichever.”

They both fall silent for a moment.

Louise’s voice slips through the quiet that surrounds them. “I take it you still haven’t told him.”

“Bloody hell, of course not,” Dan exclaims, angrily wiping away at what remains of his tears. “I’m not an idiot, Louise. I’d make things awkward – like _insanely_ awkward – and he’d – he’d not want that. Because Phil is, he’s- he’s _kind_. He’ll put up with it for my sake and then I’ll just _ruin everything_ because I’ll keep wanting more like the needy loser that I am.”

“But you don’t want him to start dating anybody.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Dan’s not surprised.

“I don’t know. I just – he’s _right there_ , every single day, and it sort of takes all of my energy not to just, you know, _get on_ with it.”

“Then why don’t you?” asks Louise, gently and impatiently at the same time.

Dan lets out a long suffering sigh as he melts into the sofa cushions. They’ve been over this time and time again.

Louise is the only one who knows.

It’s also not the first time he’s wound up at her place talking about this, and this question, or a variation of it, has always been on Louise’s Get-Dan-Sorted-Out agenda. Dan’s yet to manage to come prepared with an adequate reply.

He’s never gone on a walk all the way across London in the middle of the night before, though. Today’s a first.

“Dan?” Louise prompts when he remains quiet.

“All Phil’s ever done is flirt with me,” Dan mutters in delayed response. “But if I’d get too far, he’d always withdraw. I can take a hint when it hits me square in the face, Lou.”

“You’re never going to know of his intentions until you tell him, hun.”

“I’m _not_ going to tell him. Literally never going to tell him. I’d ruin our friendship.”

“But what if he fee-“

Dan raises his hand to cut her short before she’s done speaking. “Yeah, _right_. Have you even seen him? He’s the sweetest person in the world. It’s not like he’d have trouble meeting somebody better.” Louise rushes to correct him, but he keeps on. “Which brings us back to point A: Phil’s been ignoring me for the sake of texting someone. And he’s pretty bloody happy about it, if you ask me.”

“Dan, it could be _anyone_ ,” Louise states with resignation.

“My point exactly.”

“For all you know it could be his mum.”

A small chuckle escapes Dan’s lips, and it is quickly rewarded with a big smile from Louise.

“It’s definitely not his mum.”

“How do you know?”

Before Dan gets to respond to that, his phone chirps with the familiar tune of an incoming text. He nods at his friend apologetically, heartbeat quickening at the faint, foolish hope of it being Phil.

Then again, who else would text him this early in the morning?

_Phil (08:47 AM)_

_Where are you?_

“It’s Phil, isn’t it?” observes Lou. Dan quickly schools his features, but it’s far too late. The smile that has bloomed across his face was much too sincere to be played off as nothing.

A short, but sharp, pain somewhere in his chest tells him that he’s far too easy to read when Phil’s involved.

“Yeah. D’you mind if I-“

“Of course not. I’ll just go check on Darcy. And get you some breakfast too,” Louise says with a kind expression.

“Remind me why you put up with me in the first place?” Dan asks in a grateful tone.

“Force of habit.” She leans in to give him a friendly, almost motherly kiss on the forehead. She then stands up and leaves the lounge, gently closing the door as she steps out.

Dan takes a deep breath. All these things he tells Louise are just about the only things that Phil’s not allowed to hear. Dan wishes he’d maintain some sort of persona around Phil, his cooler, less problematic self, but that’s long gone. They’ve known each other for too long – spent too much time together – _shared_ too much for Dan to be able to lie to Phil in an effective manner.

The least he could do was conceal how fucking in love he’s been with the guy, and that’s what he’s been doing. For the past five years or so.

 

It’s a tie between texting Phil or giving him a call, and Dan’s not sure what to pick. Before his mind is all made up, he receives another message.

 

_Phil (08:52 AM)_

_Dan? Did you go down to the shop?_

With a sigh, he types out a response. This is better. Nothing can slip past his filter in a text message, aside from the occasional typo that his subscribers all love to pick on him for.

 

_Dan (08:53)_

_no_

_Phil (08:53 AM)_

_Then where are you?_

_Dan (08:54)_

_im at louise’s_

_Dan (08:54)_

_why are you even awake_

_Phil (08:56)_

_I don’t know. The flat just felt quiet_

 

Dan likes to imagine an unspoken _without you_ is there, in that text, but he knows better. Both him and Phil have all sorts of sleeping issues and one hell of a messed up sleeping schedule.

 

_Phil (08:57)_

_Why are you at Louise’s this early in the morning? Is she okay?_

 

Dan smirks at the phone, but there is no mirth in the expression.

Louise’s fine. Is Dan fine? That’s a whole different story.

 

_Dan (08:59)_

_she’s fine_

He doesn’t feel the need to explain anything further.

_Phil (09:04)_

_Dan?_

_Dan (09:05)_

_what_

_Phil (09:05)_

_Come home?_

 

Tears well up in his eyes before he even registers that the simple text pulled at all the right strings. Five bloody years with Phil. Of course he can read between the lines.

Dan’s fingers swipe angrily across his face, because he’s not supposed to be crying just because Phil wants him to go home. It’s all meaningless, and soon enough he might find out that he’s not the only person of import in Phil’s life.

And he’s done nothing whatsoever to try and stop it, either.

 

“Lou?” he calls out, hearing her rattling about in the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“I think… I’m gonna head home.” 

  

**:~:**

 

 

It’s still cold by the time Dan reaches their flat, this time in a cab. Phil’s waiting outside, because in all his nightly brilliance, Dan neglected to bring his wallet, and he’s yet to hear of a London cabbie that will give you a ride in return for a please and thank you.

As they pull up near the block, Dan notices that Phil’s still wearing his Superman pyjamas and a loose t-shirt. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, but that doesn’t stop the visible, uncontrollable fits of shivers that go through the man’s body.

Dan’s instinct tells him to take off his coat and hand it to Phil the moment he steps outside. Dan’s common sense tells him to shut the cab door and nod at Phil as he walks up the steps leading to their flat.

Dan’s known for following his common sense, is he not?

“Thanks,” he mutters as Phil begins to follow him, waving goodbye to the cabby. Phil’s always nice to people. Dan hasn’t said a word to the guy after he’s given him directions.

He walks faster on purpose, not allowing Phil to catch up to him without a strain.

“Dan, wait,” Phil pleads, trying to keep up.

“It’s freezing out here,” Dan reasons coldly, walking inside and climbing the five billion sets of stairs that await them before they reach the lounge.

He shrugs off his coat as he enters the lounge and throws it on the sofa, immediately positioning himself in his favorite crease.

Why does it feel like it’s been forever since he’s last sat here, even though he’s only been gone for a couple hours?

Why does being around Phil bring him an almost painful sort of exhilaration, the kind where you’re no longer certain if it brings you more joy than sorrow, and yet you desperately cling to what pleasure you can secure from it?

And pleasure is what wins over in the end, when Phil, finally caught up, arrives in the lounge and stands there, looking at Dan with worry-filled eyes.

Silence lingers, and Dan, ever the stubborn child, refuses to break it until Phil does. It would be like admitting defeat if he were to speak up first. He’s not likely to tell Phil what drove him out of the flat in the middle of the night, so he might as well remain silent.

Phil always speaks up when Dan’s too immature to go first.

“Do you want some coffee? I’ve just put on a pot.” His voice is quiet, almost a hushed whisper, careful and guarded. He’s rubbing his arms to chase away the cold, but stills when Dan looks at him.

Dan grunts inconsequentially. He’s almost annoyed with Phil for not getting to the point, but at the same time, he is thankful. He’s never on his best behavior after an all-nighter, especially not one such as this past night; perhaps it’s best to go to sleep and pretend the day has never happened.

“I don’t care.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Phil says with a small, not offended smile, and goes to prepare the coffee.

Dan’s purposefully being a little shit, and Phil doesn’t deserve it.

So maybe he’s seeing someone. It’s not like Dan’s gone through the trouble of indicating that he should start seeing _him_ , at least not in the past two or three years.

Dan sighs deeply and closes his eyes. Just for a moment, just until Phil returns.

Three seconds later, he’s asleep.

 

**:~:**

 

The first few moments after waking up, you often don’t remember anything much. What you’ve done the previous day, what chores you have lined up for today, what time it is and how many times you’ve pressed the snooze button on your alarm clock. The first few seconds, you’re suspended in that wonderful void, the middle of nowhere, chasing away sleep.

Dan revels in that bliss for less than thirty seconds before it all comes crashing down and his eyes snap open.

 _Shit_.

The room has gone dark. Dan expects nothing less than severe neck pain from sleeping in his browsing position, but he soon realizes that not only is he laid down properly, he’s also covered by a blanket. The flat is eerily quiet and he briefly wonders if Phil hasn’t decided to get some revenge on him by going outside without a word, but that thought doesn’t last. Phil is not petty like that.

His reasoning is quickly proven right when he looks around and finds Phil sleeping at the other end of the sofa, sitting up, glasses held at the tip of his nose by a thread, an open book resting in his lap.  

Dan’s heart lurches up to his throat and remains there as he sits up, quietly, careful not to wake Phil.

 

His head is spinning.

Phil must’ve been the one to correct his sleeping position, the one to fetch him a blanket, and even – which Dan has only just now saw – a pillow from his own bedroom. Shades of green and blue, barely discernible in the looming darkness, taunt him with a familiarity he himself has only experienced a few times in his life, when he crashed on Phil’s bed for this or that reason, usually involving a lot of alcohol.

Like a predator locking in on his prey, he dives in to inhale the smell.

If his head was spinning moments ago, it’s now officially gone on a fucking rollercoaster.

 

The pillow, it smells like Phil. His aftershave, his favorite coffee (which barely qualifies as coffee, as far as Dan is concerned; Phil is a bit of a coffee peasant), his favorite crisps that he must’ve been snacking on in bed and something hard to identify that Dan always associates with quiet nights spent inside, together, undisturbed by the outside world.

Without sitting back up, his eyes travel to his sleeping friend, and his mind races. Why not fetch a pillow from Dan’s bedroom? This one was surely slept on, and Dan doesn’t mind, but he’ll likely have to pretend that he does if they ever bring it up.

Then it hits him. Phil is much too considerate for that. He wouldn’t just barge into Dan’s bedroom without permission, would he? Of course not. Dan feels like a moron for even considering it.

Phil is always too careful, and Dan - too reckless. Phil is considerate and kind, Dan has a bit of a temper and can’t control himself to the extent that Phil does.

Phil is bloody perfect, and Dan is a complete mess. At least right now.

A few deep breaths later, Dan produces his phone from the pocket of his jeans (which are, in retrospective, not his favorite thing to sleep in) and checks the time.

It’s almost midnight, which means that Dan slept for way too long, and that he will have to pull another all-nighter to salvage whatever illusion of a sleep schedule he’s got going.

Dan sits up again, legs tangling in the blanket, blinking in the darkness until he finds the mug of coffee Phil must’ve prepared for him all those hours ago. He brings it to his lips and drinks a little, flinching at the taste of coffee gone cold, but also thankful for any type of liquid to soothe his parched throat.

He eyes Phil, the way his head bobs when he breathes, cringing at the thought of how bad a sleeping position his friend has gotten himself into. A quiet voice in the back of Dan’s head quickly identifies himself as the reason behind Phil’s current predicament, but he dismisses it.

Over time, Dan has found that he’s learned not to read between the lines. Maybe Phil just fell asleep with a book. It happens.

He drags himself off the couch as quietly as he can possibly manage, stretching his tired limbs and holding back a satisfied groan. His eyes immediately travel back to Phil.

A selfish, scared part of his mind tells him to just go up to his bedroom and leave Phil as is. But this time, it is not the part that ends up as the winning side of his internal argument.

Phil’s going to have cramps that last him a full week if he stays like this for much longer. The problem is, his friend is sitting on the shorter end of the sofa, so short of carrying him bridal style, there isn’t much that Dan can do to help his cause.

He decides that the least he can do is give Phil’s head a little prod so that it falls backwards instead of resting his chin on his chest, and cover him with the blanket that was previously warming up Dan.

He’s extra careful when he gently places his hands on the sides of Phil’s face, feeling his cheeks redden at the very notion of his friend being woken up by something like this. It feels intimate, especially in the quiet of the night, and Dan both wants to get it over with and doesn’t want to stop. He just has to give Phil a little push so that he can rest his head on the back of the chair. It’s not rocket science.

Phil doesn’t wake up the moment Dan’s fingers brush his skin, so hope sprouts in the younger boy’s heart. Perhaps this might all end well and in ten minutes time he’ll be in his own bedroom, trying not to spiral too deep into yet another existential crisis.

 

Dan feels like a failure on quite a lot of days, so it doesn’t even surprise him that he somehow manages to knock down his coffee mug, spilling most of it and worse yet, immediately waking Phil.

Of course.

Dan jumps away as if Phil is on fire, and that thought should be at least a _little_ bit funny, but at this moment, it’s really _not_. In the process, Dan manages to also knock down Phil’s laptop, which was perched on the edge of the coffee table.

In other words, everything was as successful as it usually tends to be when Dan is involved.

 

Phil blinks twice before his gaze refocuses on Dan, who is still as a rock, fighting the urge to escape at any cost. He’s not sure if Phil realized what he was trying to do, but he still rushes to explain.

“You were- you were asleep with your head like, hanging down, so I thought I’d- you know, fix it. Else you’d end up with hellish cramps.”

A ghost of a smile graces Phil’s face at this, the spell that kept them both in place now broken. He rubs the back of his neck. “Already got them, but thanks. That’s thoughtful of you.”

From anybody else, Dan would take that sentence as sarcasm, but coming from Phil, it was sincere.

“Yeah,” Dan dismisses, picking up the laptop and saying a silent thank you to their carpet for keeping it unharmed. He places it gently on the table and, with one last glance at Phil, the memory of last night fresh in his mind, decides that now is a good time to retreat.

As he turns around, he feels long, slim fingers grasping his wrist. He stills, but doesn’t look back.

“Dan, wait,” Phil pleads, “Sit down here a moment.”

Dan bites back the _‘why_ ’, feeling slightly guilty for not being all too nice to Phil in the morning, and sits down on the very edge of the sofa, not meeting Phil’s eyes.

That feeling that you get right after waking up, the feeling of being suspended in some alternate reality, returns. They’re sitting in a dark room, just the two of them, and if Dan were to reach out, he’d be close enough to take Phil’s hand in his.

But he doesn’t. He never does.

“What happened last night?” Phil finally inquires in a voice that is barely above a whisper. “I woke up at like seven and you weren’t there. You’ve gone and proper freaked me out.”

A sigh escapes him before he manages to produce a response, but Phil is patient and waits him out. When it’s clear from the way Dan senses Phil’s blue eyes bore into his skin that his friend is not going to drop it, Dan finally meets his gaze and tries to maintain a straight face.

“I just wanted to get out for a while,” he dismisses. Phil frowns in reply, and Dan knows him well enough to note the hints of disappointment that he is unable to conceal. Phil’s a bad liar. Dan's far better, but not good enough to fool his best friend.

“Right. You wanted to get out for a while, so you walked all the way across London?”

Dan shrugs, looking down at the carpet. The carpet, at least, does not show signs of betrayal just because Dan’s gone out.

“For no reason.” It’s a statement, but laced with sarcasm.

“Yeah.”

Prolonged silence. “I’m not buying it.”

Dan doesn’t have to look back at Phil to feel the weight of his stare. He doesn’t have to allow himself to look into those blue eyes, dimmed by the darkness of the lounge, to realize that Phil is worried. And he doesn’t have to ask himself about the reasons behind all this, because the phase of denial has long been left behind.

He has been in love with Phil since before they even met in real life. It has become a defining point of his personality. And loving someone who is ever so close but still so far out of your reach is far from easy.

It’s a strain. Every single day, around Phil, he feels like he is truly himself. There’s no filter in that sense, no type of control that appears in every single relationship aside from this one. Phil doesn’t judge him for his antics, nor does he complain about his mood swings and the days when Dan will refuse to even step outside the room, let alone do some actual work. All the nights when they agreed to film a video but didn’t, because Dan felt far too self-conscious to appear on camera. All the times when Phil made an innocent joke with someone else and Dan refused to laugh, seething with jealousy on the inside, because even at twenty-four, he still needed validation and reassurance and recognition and _Phil_.

“What happened, Dan?” Phil asks softly, reaching to rest a hand on Dan’s arm, squeezing it gently in a familiar, heartbreaking gesture. “Are you okay?”

 _No_ , Dan wants to say. _No I’m not._

“I’m fine,” he quips instead. “I guess I figured you won’t care if I’m gone.”

Phil’s quiet gasp is soon followed by an urgent protest. “That’s not fair. You know that’s not true.”

Dan doesn’t respond, so Phil follows, “What are you upset with me for?”

Poor Phil. He always takes it upon himself. Dan can’t remember a time when Phil blamed him for something, anything at all, aside from disappearing cereal and broken plates, the two things Dan was usually not guilty of.

Dan looks at his best friend, and he sees the man he loves. That could be why he’s upset so very often these days.

“Bloody hell, fine,” he says, careful to keep his tone closer to _annoyed_ than _touched_. “It was movie night, yeah?”

Phil nods, letting him continue.

“I downloaded this horror film we’ve been wanting to see.”

Phil’s eyes widen as he listens on.

“I made us popcorn.”

Another nod.

“The kind that you like, the buttery one.”

Phil’s hand, previously planted on Dan’s arm, returns to his lap.

“I was looking forward to it. It was a long week, you know? With the radio show and going up North and the last bits of the book and all that.”

“Yeah?”

“And we sat down to watch, and hey, _I_ was watching, but you? You were texting _the whole fucking night_. And you were all smiley and crap,” Dan blurts out after a moment of mutual silence, and before Phil gets to react, he goes on, “So, Phil, I don’t know, is there anything _you_ want to tell me?”

Phil flinches in surprise; perhaps it’s the tone of Dan’s voice that does it, or perhaps the feeling of being caught red-handed, as Dan seems to believe. Perhaps it’s the fact that this is an odd conversation for a pair of friends to have – the fact that this feels more like a lovers’ quarrel than a friendly dispute.

“What do you mean?” Phil chokes out at last.

“You’ve been weird the past couple of days,” Dan responds, as if that answers the question.

“I don’t think I have?”

Dan looks at Phil, finding the man genuinely confused. He still chooses to press on.

“Yeah, ever since we’ve gone up North to see your parents.”

A hint of recognition appears on Phil’s face, and Dan almost regrets bringing up the subject. Because if he really did meet someone while Dan was mingling with Phil’s parents and extended family, what’s there to be done?

Dan’s mind is working at full power now. Perhaps Phil’s met an old girlfriend, or his ex-boyfriend or something. Perhaps it was a short meeting, since Dan and Phil spent the majority of their time together, but still, it could’ve happened. Perhaps they’ve exchanged phone numbers. Or he’s ran into someone nice that time he went out with his brother while Dan was doing his weekly live show. That’s _very_ plausible.

And _extremely_ unnerving.

“I’ve not meant to be any different, Dan. I’m really sorry for the film night,” Phil surrenders without a fight, as he usually does, but then asks in a concerned tone, “Is that why you’ve gone out at 3 in the morning?”

That surreal feeling returns in full force. The darkness of the room, the proximity of his friend, the quiet surroundings, devoid of any sounds, aside from that of their hushed voices.

Dan wants to know, even if the knowledge is going to tear him to fucking pieces of heartbroken _nothing_.

“Phil.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you seeing someone?”

For a moment, everything goes very quiet.

 

Dan expects various outcomes from this. He expects Phil to get all flustered and deny it, only further confirming it in reality. He also won’t be surprised if Phil calmly says that yes, he is, although he’s not very sure of his own reaction to such a revelation. Phil might get angry at Dan for invading his personal life, too, but that’s not very likely. Phil rarely gets carried away, and they share practically everything anyway, clothes included. Dan absently takes note of the hoodie Phil is wearing – his old university one.

His mind travels even farther in those few seconds. He tries to imagine the fan backlash that will start if Phil ever, accidentally or not, reveals that he’s dating someone, and that person is _not_ Dan. Dan’s not blind, nor is he stupid. Their subscribers are bloody _relentless_ , and saying that the _vast majority_ of them believe that Phan is an actual thing is an understatement. They’re convinced, and they find hints in every video, every photograph and each radio show, but what they’re not aware of is that while it might be real on Dan’s side, it’s _not_ on Phil’s.

He can almost see a whole video dedicated to Phil finally introducing his new partner to the world, putting an end to all the shipping. Perhaps Dan will join in too, try to show his support so that they don’t immediately pin him as the jealous, abandoned ex-boyfriend or the friend who hoped for so much more. That might be the right course of action, if Phil agrees to it.

 

Before Dan’s paranoia drives him to imagine Phil’s future grandchildren, their names and whether they’d be almost ginger like Phil would be if not for his endless dye jobs, his urgent reverie is broken by the – ever unexpected - sound of Phil’s laughter.

 

Dan refocuses his gaze on his friend, finding him full-out laughing, the deep sound bubbling somewhere inside his chest and escaping his mouth in repeated fits. There are crinkles near the corner of his eyes, and he’s shaking a little, and Dan might as well die, because seriously, just seeing Phil like this is too much. What could possibly be funny? Is Phil completely oblivious to Dan’s distress? Or maybe it’s funny because he’s been seeing someone for ages now and Dan’s just never noticed?

Bloody hell, that’s right, isn’t it? He’s just too good at hiding it all, that’s the only logical answer here.

“What?” Dan finally asks in an offended tone, if only to conceal the fact that he’s completely terrified.

Phil lets out the last little chuckles and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, then looks at Dan. His gaze is filled to the brim with warmth.

Dan likes to feel warm.

He shivers.

“When would I ever find the time to see someone? I’m always with you,” his friend asks earnestly, a smile visible on his face and discernible in the tone of his voice.

Dan’s heart stutters at this, and he finds that he simply doesn’t know what to say.

He was so sure of this hellish scenario being the only right one, that anything but a “Um, yeah, sort of seeing someone” or “I’ve actually just asked them to marry me!” or even “I secretly have five children” just doesn’t seem to cut it.

His face, previously a mask of frustration, relaxes under the relief and surprise. His eyes widen, and he can’t tear them away from Phil’s, even though he knows that he should.

A thought occurs to him that their friendship, this carefully constructed land of boundaries – and lack thereof – is something he too often, too willingly, puts at risk.

“So you’re not, then?” he reaffirms.

Phil scoffs; not unkindly, in amusement. “I’m not. Really, Dan, is _this_ what this was all about?”

Dan’s cheeks redden at the realization that he may have made a big deal out of nothing at all. But then, he keenly remembers Phil’s absentminded, one-word responses the previous night, his lack of interest in anything but his phone, the happy smiles sent in a different direction...

Dan, not one to think before he speaks when experiencing too many emotions, blurts out: “Then who were you texting? You looked like the bleeping sun from the Teletubbies, I swear.”

Now it is Phil’s cheeks that turn a very embarrassing shade of red, but luckily for both the boys, such small changes in complexion are difficult to spot without a single light on in the room. He does, however, break eye contact and look down to the carpet, taking a deep breath – a dead giveaway to someone who’s known him as long as Dan has; a hint that there’s something in there that he is trying to hide.

“Err, well, I was actually texting Louise…” Phil utters at long last.

Dan freezes.

“Whatever for? She hasn’t said anything.”

“Oh, well, I was…” Phil stutters, visibly flustered. Dan, too curious for his own good now, changes his position on the sofa, so that they’re closer.

So that their knees are touching, brushing ever so slightly.

Phil jumps a little at the unexpected contact, but does not draw back.

“I just had to talk to her.”

“You don’t have a thing for Louise now, do you?” he asks with disbelief, feeling relieved when Phil snorts inelegantly in reply.

“Dan!” he says, smacking his arm softly. “I just told you I’m not seeing anybody!”

“Okay, but there’s this one thing I don’t get,” Dan muses after a moment of contemplation, “I told Louise what the problem was, right? That you were texting and I basically went full emo.” He blushes slightly at this, because really, it’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to admit to. “And she was like: _maybe he’s been texting his mum_ … She’s never said that you were texting _her_.”

Phil is the worst liar in the history of forever, so when Dan sees his fidgety behavior, he knows something is up.

“No clue,” Phil dodges, and before Dan can call him out, he hastily adds, “I guess it wasn’t _that_ important.”

Dan shoots his friend a look, entirely unconvinced. At the same time, he’s relieved that Phil is still, well, _available_. The moment the thought passes through his mind, he makes a mental note to man up and grow a pair of balls eventually, because he’s been acting like a total loser.

He remains silent for a moment that feels too long to be acceptable, but then again, he’s with Phil. Regular rules of social interaction don’t really apply when you’re this close to someone, even if on the surface, it’s all platonic.

“Right, even if that is true, something is still off, Phil.”

Dan knows that that is not how male/male friendships usually work. He knows from his guy friends that it’s not meant to be this intense. They’re not meant to be sitting down and discussing one of them acting _off_  towards the other, because hey, they’re bloody _mates_ , not a teenage couple.

But Dan has never even tried to pretend that his friendship with Phil is your usual _let’s go down to the pub on Tuesday night and get fucking smashed so that we can show some birds a good time, innit?_ kind.

Phil meets his inquiring, unguarded stare with a resigned, although careful, look. It’s not a look Dan’s ever seen on Phil before.

Dan kind of wants to take it all back and pretend it’s okay, because suddenly, a shiver runs down his spine. Suddenly, he is afraid.

 

It is too late to put a stop to what he’s already put into motion with his very own hands.

 

“Dan.”

His name slips off Phil’s tongue so smoothly; Dan knows Phil’s name better than he knows his own. Phil knows him better than he knows himself.

Everything around them is so very dark, and yet Dan could name all of the little specks of colour that dance around Phil’s eyes. Every last one of them.

“Y-yeah?” he stutters stupidly, willing his heartbeat to calm down. It’s fine. It’s okay. It’s-

“My Mum’s asked me if we’re ever going to get married.”

Dan lets out the breath he’s been holding, feeling as if he’s been punched in the throat.

“She said she’s not getting any younger and she hopes we’re considering adoption at some point…”

Silence.

“…And I got upset and I said it’s not like that, but then I-“

Phil hesitates, but Dan doesn't prompt him to go on. He couldn't, even if he wished to.

"But then I thought, is it really okay for me to blame her for thinking so?"

Their eyes meet; neither says a word for a moment of heavy, dense silence.

"Is it, Dan?" Phil finally asks, voice strained and quiet.

Dan looks away.

"You tell me," he responds, suddenly preoccupied with the hem of his jumper, picking at it nervously with trembling fingers.

 

Dan's entire body freezes, momentarily resembling a solid husk of ice; no, not just ice, it is frozen flame, burning him alive when he feels Phil's fingers underneath his chin, willing him to look back again.

Dan's soft gasp echoes throughout the quiet, dark lounge. Phil doesn't let go.

"Phil..."

Phil's fingers slowly move towards the side of Dan's face when the younger boy obeys and looks up to meet his best friend's piercing stare. At the end of it, he's cupping Dan's cheek and Dan can't stop the instinct that tells him to lean into this forbidden touch.

"Is it?"

Dan closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a deep, resigned breath. He's in a trance, hypnotized by Phil's eyes, by his gentle touch, by how surreal this whole thing is. For once, he doesn't think three times over before saying what comes to his mind; the filter discarded, thrown into the proverbial trashcan.

"No," he whispers, "It's not."

Phil, previously more confident than Dan is in that moment, loses the facade he's been struggling to keep up, visibly taken aback by Dan's response. His eyes widen, and in the overwhelming quiet, Dan hears him draw in a sharp breath that he doesn't let out.

They both want to say more, but in the end, Phil is the one that prevents it from happening.

Something in Dan's eyes, carefully mixed right in there with the tiredness, the unhappiness, the anxiety, the humor, the kindness, the caring nature that Phil knows so well; that little _something_ is the last thing Phil sees before closing his eyes as well as the distance between them at the same time.

Before his lips touch Dan's.

Dan freezes for an instant. Prior to this, a million thoughts ran through his mind. Right now, it's completely blank.

Instinct takes over as Phil's lips sink into his. He kisses back, tentatively, nervously, lovingly but uncertainly. His mouth does not venture to explore Phil's, he merely responds to what he is granted, and holds on to the moment with everything he's got, hoping Phil will not notice how much Dan doesn't want this to end.

Phil knows Dan better than he knows himself. Of course he notices something's off.

"Is... Is something wrong, Dan? Did you... Not want this?"

Phil pulls away, inches, mere inches, but enough to look into Dan's brown eyes. This pulls the younger boy out of his daze.

"No!" he replies hastily, flustered and slightly out of breath. "I mean, yeah, yeah I wanted it, I just-"

Phil offers him a warm smile, and then slowly brings his hand up to caress Dan's cheek.

 

This time, when Phil leans forward and their lips meet, Dan is not quite as shocked, but still nervous. He's not kissed anybody in years. What if he's completely, utterly rubbish at it? What if Phil hates it?

What if they're both doing something wrong?

Phil notices that Dan's tense again, so he stops the kiss and whispers right into his mouth, hot breath tickling Dan's lips in the most irresistible way.

"Relax," Phil pleads, punctuating the word with a soft, slow kiss right on Dan's lips. "It's only me."

The realization hits Dan with the force of a freight train.

All this time, he's been in love with Phil. All this time, he wanted more. In his eyes, Phil wasn't only his best friend - he was always this perfect picture of someone entirely unattainable, a dream that won't come true. A dream he had effectively stopped chasing years ago out of fear of spoiling a perfectly good thing - no, the _best_ thing that had ever happened to him - their friendship.

Phil was always incredible and always out of reach.

But no, it's only Phil. His Phil, the man he had known for years, the man who had stuck by him through thick and thin. Phil had known all of his flaws and was on the receiving end of them on many occasions. Phil knew what it is to live with Dan and not see him for days on end when things were bad. Phil knew the sleepless nights and missed calls and moments when all he needed were comforting arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. And Phil was always there to help him through it all.

Phil never gave up on him. Phil became a part of him before Dan even knew.

"You love me too?" Dan breathes, tears pooling in his eyes. Phil meets his stare with certainty,  unguarded, open, sincere.

"Of course I love you. When have I not loved you, Dan?"

Dan's heart stops and stutters and races and suddenly, Phil's palm rests over his chest, right where the erratic beat comes from. He tentatively raises his own hand to wrap around Phil's neck as their foreheads meet. He closes his eyes and listens to Phil's ragged breaths.

"Why haven't you told me?" he whispers; a broken, tiny sound.

"I couldn't. I was..." Phil pauses, and Dan fills in for him.

"Scared?"

He feels him smile, their cheeks brushing ever so slightly.

"Terrified."

"Me too. I was terrified. I'm terrified _right now_."

They both laugh softly, and their lips meet for another kiss which grows more heated by the second. Phil bites Dan's lower lip, Dan runs his fingers through Phil's hair, stray, impatient hands pull at the hems of their shirts. Before Dan knows it, he is straddling Phil's lap.

Words have no meaning, it's actions that carry them in full, Dan thinks as he wraps his arms around Phil and is pulled even closer in return. Bare skin, skin on skin, gasping for breath, stumbling towards Phil's bedroom, kissing wildly, with abandon, with affection, with passion.

Short, long overdue, declarations of a love that was kept hidden for far too long. Secrets race past their lips, things left unsaid for what felt like an eternity.

 

As they lay in bed many hours later, Dan whispers into Phil's chest, in that half-asleep world, in suspension, in a dream that suddenly turned to reality.

"All this time, and we didn't know. No one knew, not for real." He is much too happy to sound forlorn, but he does mourn all the wasted time that they will never get back.

"Except Louise," Phil says, kissing the top of Dan's head.

"Except Louise," Dan agrees, running sloppy kisses over his chest and neck and jaw and...

A few hours later, they both drift to sleep.

 

**:~:**

 

It's noon when Dan opens his eyes.

Phil is not there, and he wonders - no, he _assumes_ \- that the whole thing was not true. Another one of his daft dreams, that's all it was.

He feels desperate, heartbroken, momentarily close to tears. And yet, before he gets to fall into his usual downwards spiral, a few things happen all at once.

He notices the bed sheets, so obviously Phil's.

He smells the pillow, the single pillow, and it smells like Phil.

He hears a voice coming from outside the room, and he knows it is Phil's.

Words are difficult to make out, but he tries his hardest, strangely alert.

"Mum? No, no, I'm fine. I'm fine! Stop freaking out!"

He frowns in confusion.

"Mum, listen, you were right. You were so right. You were right all along."

 

Dan's heart swells as he hears joyful, disbelieving laughter burst through the door to Phil's bedroom.

He jumps out of bed and goes to join Phil.

For the first time in a long time, Dan just _knows_ that this will be a good day.


End file.
